


aliens are cooler anyway

by traiyadhvika



Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, Pining, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 20:32:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14480646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traiyadhvika/pseuds/traiyadhvika
Summary: Kevin realizes something on a Friday movie night between him and his best friend.“Don’t puke on me,” Kevin warns, but he scoots a little closer, staying hopefully out of range. Clyde’s lopsided grin is marginally assuring, but then again, maybe it’d do for him to just knock the guy out and drag him upstairs before any more damage could be done to the living room. He’s seen Craig do it before, so it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary. “Seriously, if you die here, my parents will ground me.”





	aliens are cooler anyway

**Author's Note:**

> hey i love stolovan also its currently 4am and i just finished writing in a fucken daze so this is uhh unedited mostly.

“Come up here,” Clyde slurs, his head lolling to one side like some demented ghoul straight out of the B movie they’d been watching. Kevin elects to ignore him in lieu of cleaning up the mess of tissues and empty beers on the table. He hadn’t had much, maybe a can and a half, because he knows his limits.

Clyde, unfortunately, doesn’t.

“Keviiiiiiin—“

“Throw up in there if you need to,” Kevin says, pushing the trash can towards him. He watches Clyde struggle to get up from the sofa twice, only to fall back down again and hit his head on the remote, turning the TV back on. There’s some pissy British dude yelling; Kevin grabs the remote from Clyde’s tenuous grasp and switches to Discovery. He sighs and turns to face his friend who’s on the verge of vomiting into his mom’s houseplants. “You look like shit.”

“I am  _ the _ shit, Kevin,” Clyde replies, wagging a finger at him. It’s not a very threatening gesture with drool at the corner of his mouth. “Come ‘ere.”

“Don’t puke on me,” Kevin warns, but he scoots a little closer, staying hopefully out of range. Clyde’s lopsided grin is marginally assuring, but then again, maybe it’d do for him to just knock the guy out and drag him upstairs before any more damage could be done to the living room. He’s seen Craig do it before, so it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary. “Seriously, if you die here, my parents will ground me.”

Clyde laughs, putting a hand around Kevin’s shoulder. “C’mon, you’re not Butters.“

It really shouldn’t be so nice-feeling, the weight of Clyde’s hand over Kevin’s, or the fact that he’s currently nuzzling Kevin’s hair. That’s probably gonna get crusty real soon, but Kevin tries to be optimistic. In any case, he should be used to this by how often Clyde has been doing this when they’re alone.

He shoves a glass of water into Clyde’s wandering hand. “Drink.”

“Mmgh—” No amount of protests is gonna get him off the hook, that’s for sure. Under Kevin’s watchful eye Clyde dutifully downs the water, then sits up—or tries to, anyway. Kevin helps prop him up, struggling a bit before they find a compromise between the pillows. He’s not as scrawny as he once was, but trying to move 200-something pounds of high school linebacker is no joke. “Thanks. Can we keep the lights on?”

“You just got drunk because you didn’t want to be scared, did you.”

“Nuh-uh. You always pick creepy films,” Clyde says. He nestles his head on the nook of Kevin’s neck, closing his eyes. “At least it’s not, not—aliens.“

“Aliens are cool.”

“Yeah, but we’ve watched Star Trek reruns five billion times already.”

Maybe that was why nobody else wanted to come over today. They’re all missing out, Kevin concludes. “I don’t see a problem with that.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

Five minutes pass as none of what’s happening on the screen makes it past Kevin’s ears. Clyde’s snoring now, gently, his hand on Kevin’s upper thigh. It’s like a giant cat has draped half its weight on him—if Kevin moves, he knows for a fact that Clyde would just pull him right back into this half-embrace.

It’s not a bad idea, that. But.

“Hey, sleepyhead, the spare mattress is upstairs.”

“Jus’ a mo’,” Clyde murmurs, yawning as Kevin pokes him once in the ribs. Then two more times. “Ow!”

“Ow?”

Even in this state Clyde seems to recognize what will come if he doesn’t comply. “Okay, I know…”

He lets Kevin help him to the bathroom, where Clyde almost faceplants into the toilet. It would be a dreadful way to go everything considered, which is perhaps why he starts crying almost as soon as Kevin hauls him outside and starts wiping off his face with a wet towel.

“I’m dying, Kevin,” Clyde mutters, between gasps and tears. It’s almost comical if not for the fact that both of them are now covered in snot and other fluids Kevin isn’t entirely sure he wants to recognize. He’d have to wake up to do laundry early tomorrow, maybe. “H-honestly, I think—“

“Hey,” Kevin interrupts. He considers Clyde with his tousled brown hair, eyes puffy and looking upwards like a lost dog, the pungent smell of alcohol and detergent and less savory things. In a horrific soap-operatic turn of events, Kevin finds that he really wants to kiss Clyde. “You’re not dying, okay? Let’s go upstairs, you left your sweater up there from last time.”

Clyde hiccups. “Kevin…”

“Yes?”

“Do you love me?” he asks. Kevin, his heart beating at roughly three million miles a minute, considers knocking him out right then and there. It’s a testament to how much Clyde could wheedle from him when he puts on his best puppy eyes even after ten beers. “Could—could you bring down that sweater. Please.”

Good lord.

He marches Clyde upstairs, then half-forces him into the sweater, which while having been worn before, had yet to have Coors Light splashed across its middle. Kevin puts his hands on his hips. “Don’t choke when I’m in the shower.”

Clyde, from the mattress in the middle of the room, barely gives him a thumbs-up before he passes out into neverland.

He’s snoring loud enough to wake elephants when Kevin comes back, a thunderous rumble that threatens to match that of Kevin’s own father. Now slightly more aware, Kevin considers Clyde again, and finds that his opinion from twenty minutes ago has not much changed.

“Damn,” he whispers.

Clyde snores at him in reply. Kevin sits down next to his inert form and brushes his hair away from his face. Usually if they haven’t ingested anything suspicious by now this would be when Clyde would be huddled against him, babbling on about ghosts coming out of the closet after going through the Asian horror flicks on Netflix. He’d rival Tweek in paranoia any day in that regard. “You think ghosts exist?”

No response.

“Aliens are cooler, anyway,” Kevin says, almost to himself. Clyde moves a hand towards him, a normal nerve response to there being something heated nearby. Their fingers touch, for a moment, before Kevin pulls away.

He goes to sleep thinking about fingers in his hair, a soft weight on his shoulder.

**Author's Note:**

> clyde absolutely reciprocates eventually (&loudly) ok ok i just had a lot of feelings


End file.
